Perfections Greatest Imperfection
by A Beautiful Breakdown
Summary: If angels walked the earth, what would the look like? To one child, the image of angelic perfection has developed within the soul of his single mother, his infatuation with her purity and imperfection leading him astray. what freedom will university offer


_**Perfections Greatest Imperfection  
**( (Or Angels Fall… I can't decide))_

Caution, boy love will follow...  
The idea for this popped up during one of my Path lectures so Im not entirely sure where this is going, bare with meeee 3  
It's rated for mature content to come... even if I don't know exactly whats going to happen, I DO know it won't be kiddie friendly!

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__Prologue – L.O.V.E my reason for being… _

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_Cold, nights were always so cold, for as far back as I can remember I've felt nothing but the empty ache of loneliness. We'd lie together for hours, just she and I, her arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I was safe, her breath upon the back of my neck as I curled instinctively into her warmth. This was the life I knew, the never ending love and devotion of a mother who knew nothing more then the hardships life granted and the love of her pathetic son. _

_She'd lay there because I needed it, because I couldn't fall asleep without knowing she was there, somewhere around me. Quietly, as sleep stole my consciousness, she would slip away. I knew the moment her body left mine, the moment only one form occupied the bed we shared, the moment when I was left alone to the cold. I knew, even in my most unconscious hour that I was alone, but she was doing it for me._

_Back then I didn't seem to get much sleep. I'd listen as she moved around the small room grandma had provided for us. She was quiet, but I knew she was there. The faintest whisper of clothing, the soft click of a lock being broken, then wood against wood in a scratchy breath as she maneuvered around the desk I knew never to touch. I could hear her undress; it never seemed to bother her I might catch a glimpse of her naked body glowing beneath the burning light of our one table lamp. She felt no shame in her appearance, the way her breasts fell perfectly against her skin, the way her stomach slopped, her hips curved, or the gracious dip of her pelvic bones which sat just millimeters above the crest of her pants. Those gracious dips leading into an area I knew nothing about. _

_It didn't bother her then, just as it never bothered her when I snuck from our room, my nose pressed against the doorframe as she slipped into the warming embrace of a well deserved bath._

_She was proud, or maybe too ashamed to care any longer, but I was there, I saw it all, more then she ever knew. _

_It was the same every night. The same ritual, my bath, a watery grave filled with strawberries and bubbles. She'd leave me alone for a little while, talking to grandma about 'grownup things' before situating herself a top the porcelain toilet seat where she'd watch as I splashed and played and we'd talk. As long as I can remember it had been a tradition. The time I spent alone, I'd force myself down into the water, plugging my nose as I tempted my will against the placid glassy escape. I'd hold my breath and open my eyes, ignoring the soapy sting left over by the strawberry bubble bath, my will to beat the shimmering surface grater then any other feeling I'd known. I'd lay there for minutes until my chest began to feel constricted my throat desperate for the taste of oxygen. Still, I'd force my body to linger until all impurities left me and her face lingered upon the surface, a broken vision of angelic beauty. _

_She soon got use to my odd quirks, the strange things I'd do without explanation. It was why she loved me, she would say, perched upon the toilet seat, her elbow resting upon the sinks edge. _

_As I grew older, body image becoming a concern for me, I grew uncomfortable with her sudden presence upon her familiar seat. I didn't want to talk, just soak, using the fleeting bubbles as a shield against the world, play with them till all that was left was thee small path hovering over my private areas. Then she'd tease me and giggle, calling me her little man, commenting on how grown up I was becoming. I think I hated that the most._

_In school I'd been teased about my size. I was small, a runt in the eyes of some. I was pushed and shoved, bullied and taunted for my slight feminine appearance. They would call my names I never understood and was too afraid to ask the adults about. I just knew they could never hold a friendly meaning, for the tone carried along lead to implications that made me uncomfortable._

_She was my best friend though, no one understood me like she did, no one cared about me like she, my rock and focus in life. Everything I did was to become more like her, and I do mean everything. I wanted her heart, her smile, her knowledge of the world and the fearless manner in which she stared down problems waiting and resilient. _

_She was beautiful and I, I was infatuated. I never saw her imperfections, only the love which radiated off her perfect figure. It didn't matter that I grew up without a father, for she was my everything, she taught me the things I'd learn no where, how to eat an oreo, how to make grandmas banana bread, most importantly, how to shield my heart from the pain of others, and when the time came, how to love like my heart was meant for nothing else. _

_My mother, was an angel, impure and yet perfect. She was my life, my love, my reason for being. I never questioned her actions, even when I came to understand exactly what it was she had been doing with her life. I never once objected, though maybe I should have. All I knew was that she loved me, a suffocating kind of, can't live with out love and that was something I could not do without. _

_She was the forgotten, god child sent to earth as a sign, an implication that better survived. That even against the most precarious situations, silver linings do exist… and she was mine. _

_This is my story, but in so many ways, it's hers… The way I lived through her, the way I loved through her… How she shaped my life and I grew the wings and courage to fly._

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_so... Good... bad... horrible... please god stop writing now??  
See the little box that says review next to it... click it... you know you wanna, I sure want to know what you think!! 


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